Max Payne: Miami
by Mr. Zeek
Summary: Max Payne is losing focus while on the job and is feeling depressed, so his boss gives him a vacation to Miami. However, things don't go quite as planned. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1: Life in a bombshell

**Warning: Spoilers**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Max Payne, Rockstar does.**

**Description: (Takes place after Max Payne 2) Max is having trouble keeping focused on the job and is seriously depressed. His boss decides to give him a vacation to hoping that it will get him out of his dark mood. Where's he going? Miami. However, things don't go quite as planned. His relaxing time off will soon turn into a rollercoaster of turmoil and chaos.**

**Authors Notes**

**Here's a bit background info for those who might not have played the games, and shame on you if you haven't.**

**In Max Payne 1 Max's wife and baby daughter were murdered as well as his partner Alex. In Max Payne 2 he was betrayed by his closest friend Vladimir Lem and Mona Sax a criminal he fell in love was killed by Vlad. Max ended up killing him.**

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Max Payne : Miami

CHAPTER 1: Life in a bombshell

In a busy NYPD building, on a mildly cold spring day sat a man at a desk. A seemingly pathetic, tired, and beaten man at first glance. However if you knew this man, you would realize that he is not pathetic. Far from it actually, he was the best man on the force. Maybe not personality wise, but he knows how to get the job done. He was seen as the best by many. Coworkers, superior officers, gang members, and even a number of important politicians. Max Payne, New York's finest. Now as for him looking beaten and tired, that part is mostly true.

Its been a few months since that horrible incident. He had sustained injuries that still affect him today, was betrayed by his "Dearest friend", and held the dead body of a woman he loved in his arms for the second time in his life. Mona Sax. At first she just seemed like nothing but a tease who he defended for reasons beyond him. Then a bond of some sort formed between them. A bond that made both feel a need to protect each other. And in the end it blossomed into something that neither of them expected. Love, true love. Sadly that lasted for about a solid 5 seconds, as these feelings were finally revealed as Mona was drawing her last breaths.

Max sighed and leaned back in his chair, trying not to think about the past. He realized that it was interfering with his job, distracting him at times he needed to stay focused and keep a clear head. He got up and headed towards the break room. 'Maybe some coffee will help clear my head' he thought as he walked down the empty hallway. He stepped through the door and into the break room. He looked around and saw no one. Good, people chatting about how boring their life was or how much they hated paperwork was the last thing he wanted right now. He enjoys the rare quiet moments in his day, the rest of it is usually includes listening to loud idiotic criminals curse and scream at him about their innocence or trying to calm frantic victims down enough to find out what happened to them. So he savored the silence as he poured his coffee.

He lifted the cup to his mouth to drink it, but then he froze. The cup slipped from his hand and fell to the floor. He grabbed the side of his head and groaned as an unpleasant high-pitched noise rang through his ears and his vision blurred. He fell backwards onto the couch behind him. His head felt like it was being split open. It lasted for about 10 seconds, but to him it felt like 10 minutes. He rubbed his temples to sooth the residing pain. As he did he felt a deep jagged scar on his left temple, compliments from his "Friend" Vlad. "That was a bad one." He mumbled to himself.

These headaches have been happening ever since he took that bullet to the head. They've come at some very inconvenient times, once it caused a burglar to get away because these attacks are so crippling that he can barely stand when they occur. Max stumbled to his feet. He glanced at the cup he dropped. It was shattered in half a dozen pieces. He left the room deciding to let the janitor deal with the mess.

The bathroom door swung open as Max stumbled in and leaned against the sink. He turned the facet on and splashed cold water in his face. He looked into the mirror and saw an exhausted looking man with a five O'clock shadow and some grey on the edges of his hair. "I look like hell" he said. "Funny" he chuckled, "I feel like it too." He sighed. His life was going in a continuous downward spiral and showed no signs of slowing. 'I don't know how much longer I can take this' he thought. He grabbed a paper towel and dried his face. He crumpled it and threw it in the trashcan, then walked out of the room.

As Max walked back to his desk he heard the voice of Jim Bravura call out. "Payne!" He sighed and changed his direction towards his Superiors office. The Deputy Chief was severely injured during the same fiasco Max experienced. He has a lot of trouble getting around and has to use a cane. Even so, its impressive to still be alive after getting shot 7 times by an smg let alone being able to walk and continue doing his job. He was a stubbornly tough man.

Max walked in and closed the door behind him. Bravura motioned for him to sit in a chair and he did so without a word. Jim starred at him as if studying him, then he spoke in a stern voice. "Max I've noticed that you seem out of it these past few months." Max remained silent. "It has also come to my attention that you've become distracted and suffer random severe headaches, one of which resulted in the escape of a burglary suspect."

Then his features softened a bit and he continued in a more concerned tone. "But its understandable after all you've been through". "You're the best cop I've seen in my 30 years of police work and I don't want watch you fall apart after everything you've survived. Look at you, only 37 years old but you seem at least 50." Max slouched a bit feeling as old as he looked. "Max, this job is killing you." Max looked at him with a neutral expression. "You've experienced more than any man ever should and you've never taken a day off in your life. Going on like this will only make things worse, you need to get away for a while."

For the first time since he entered the room Max spoke. "I don't want to be put on leave, I'd much rather be on the job than sit at home and do nothing." He said calmly. Bravura spoke with a stern voice again. "I don't just mean the NYPD, I mean New York as well and don't think of it as leave, think of it as a vacation. God knows you need one." Max seemed a little confused and asked. "Why would I leave New York?"

Bravura reached in a draw in his desk and pulled out a bottle of scotch as well as 2 small glasses. He started speaking as he filled both about halfway. "New York's dark nature isn't going to help you get out of this depression of yours. So I'm sending you somewhere a bit sunnier." He handed Max a glass. "And where might that be?" Asked Max. Jim raised his glass and replied. "Miami, and I'm not taking no for an answer." He then downed his drink. Max looked at his glass contemplating about what he had just been told. 'What the hell.' He thought. 'I could use a break.' Then he drained his glass as well.

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**End of Chapter 1**

**Authors Notes**

**If I get some reviews I'll continue with the story. If I don't well...I'll probably write more anyway, but motivation is always nice.**

**REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2: Flying Blind

**Authors Notes**

**Hello Fanfictioners.**

**In this chapter Max is taking a plane to Miami. Read and see what happens**.

Max Payne: Miami

Chapter 2: Flying Blind

Max tried to relax in his seat, but it was in vain. He had never flown in his life and wasn't looking forward to it. A young cheery looking stewardess with blonde hair and bright blue eyes walked over to him. "Excuse me sir. Would you like something to drink before we take off?" Max looked up at her and replied "No but when are we leaving?" "Take off should be in about 15 minutes." She said. "Thanks." He said gruffly.

The stewardess noticed how tense he seemed and smiled a bit wider. "First time flying?" She asked in a mildly curious voice. Max grimaced. "That obvious huh?" He asked. The stewardess continued smiling . "What's your name?" She asked. "Max." He replied. "Well Max the ride isn't very long, I could get you a pillow and sheet so you can sleep right through it." The stubborn side of Max was going to say "no" but then he realized how stiff his neck felt. "Just a pillow please." He said. "Okay I'll be right back with it, if you need anything else just ask me. My name's Mary."

Max nodded his head and began rubbing his scar. It was something he did occasionally when he was stressed. Before too long, Mary returned with the pillow, then she left to attend to any other passengers that may need something. Max put the soft cotton filled cloth behind his head and drifted into sleep almost instantly.

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He opened his eyes and shook his head, it felt like he was in his haze. He looked around only to find all of the passengers missing. 'What the hell?' He thought. Standing up he walked into the isle gazing down past the other seats. He saw the silhouette of something about 20 ft or more in front of him. He started moving towards the shape slowly. "Who's there?" He called. No response. He was getting close enough to see that it was definitely human. "Hello?" Again no answer. Now he was only a few feet away.

He could tell by the long hair and shapely body that the person was female, but her back was to him so he couldn't see her face. "Excuse me miss?" This time she turned her head a little to the left to look at him. He recognized her as the flight attendant that talked to him earlier. "Mary?" He said. She started walking in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. Max jogged to catch up with her. "Mary what's going on, where is everyone?" He asked as he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. What he saw was something he never expected to see again.

Staring right at him was the face of the woman he held dying in his arms not more than 4 months ago. "Mona." He whispered. She stepped back a few feet. Gone was the stewardess that stood there moments ago. She looked exactly the same since the last time he had seen her. In her black jeans and black shirt, gun holster under her left arm, and a fresh bullet wound in her abdomen. "Sorry for being such a damsel in distress Max."

She turned around and began walking away. "Mona?" She sped up and started running. "Mona!" Max took off after her going as fast as he could. She reached the door that lead to the cockpit, she opened and closed it behind her. Max arrived at the same door right after her. He threw it open and stepped in. He stumbled to a halt as he looked around to see the white walls and floor of a hospital hallway, then he looked straight forward. He was speechless. Standing there before him was a man he had never wanted to see again in his life.

There stood Vladimir Lem, in his white suit, with a smug grin on his face. Mona lay motionless at his feet. "What's wrong Max, you look like you just saw a ghost." He said in his Russian accent. Max clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as he felt anger boiling inside him. Vlad gave a hearty laugh. "Max Payne, dearest of all my friends." He raised a Desert Eagle and aimed it at Max's head. He gave him another smirk. "Bang, you are dead." Then he pulled the trigger.

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Max lunged from his seat with a loud yell. His scar was flaring up and he had a terrible headache. Mary quickly came over to him. "Max what's wrong?" She asked. He looked up at her while holding the side of his head. "Uh nothing just a bad dream. Do you have any aspirin I could take, I have a bit of a headache." He said quickly changing the subject, he didn't want to think about his dream. No, not dream. Nightmare. He never had dreams, only nightmares. "Sure I'll be right back with some." She shuffled quickly towards where they kept the medical supplies.

Max leaned back and took a deep breath, he glanced to the side and saw people staring at him with questioning looks. Before long, Mary returned with some aspirin and a glass of water. He put the pills in his mouth and used the water to wash them down. 'Not as effective as painkillers but they'll help'. "Thanks." He said as he handed Mary the glass. "Are you alright?" She asked. "I'll be fine. How far are we from Miami?" He asked. "We should be landing in about half an hour." She Answered. "Good." He decided that he wasn't much of a fan of flying. "Do you need anything else?" Asked Mary. "No." Said Max. She smiled and headed towards the kitchen to wash the glass.

Max tried to relax a little but didn't plan on going back to sleep. He had no intentions of revisiting his nightmares. "Excuse me." Said a female voice. He looked over expecting to see Mary, instead the was different stewardess with a cart in front of her. "Would you like some coffee?" She asked. "Sure." He said. 'I never did get to finish my coffee last time.' He thought.

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**Authors Notes**

**Thanks for reading chapter 2 of my story.**

**Give me a review to let me know what you think so far.**


	3. Chapter 3: Five's a crowd

**Authors notes**

**Max is finally in Miami! How will his arrival go? Read to find out.**

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Max Payne: Miami

Chapter 3: Fives a crowd

Max was walking through the crowded terminal with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. Getting his bag from luggage claim was more of a hassle than he would of liked. His painkillers had been mistaken for an illegal drug by a jumpy security guard. He probably would have gotten arrested or worse if that other guard hadn't stepped in. Luckily for him not everyone's a complete moron.

After a few minutes of trying to navigate his way to the exit which involved a lot of pushing and shoving he made it. Standing outside the entrance of the airport he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. It had the address of the place Max was supposed to stay at. Bravura told he had a friend in Miami that owed him a favor. He said he could stay there for the 2 weeks of his vacation. Although Jim did mention that he probably couldn't count on his friend to pick him up from the airport, so he suggested just getting a cab.

Max looked at the name of the address. 6868 EAST MARVIN ST. He had no idea where that was, he would have to trust the cab driver to know where it was. He sighed. There was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind telling him this was going to be a long and hectic 2 weeks. He hopped it was wrong, but his instincts were usually right. He rubbed the back of his neck while looking for a cab. He was about to hail one when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Max?" He turned to see Mary standing there in a set of normal clothes instead of her stewardess uniform. "Mary? What are you doing here?" He asked. "Well I live in Miami and Spring Break is part of my vacation time so I'm free for a few weeks." She said happily. "Are you here on vacation too?" She asked curiously. "Yeah I guess so." He replied. "You guess? What's that supposed to mean?" She asked. "I haven't had a vacation in years." He said. "Wow and I thought I was a workaholic." Max just nodded his head in response to her comment.

"Well where are you headed?" She asked. 'She sure is a curious one.' He thought. "East Marvin street, do you know where that is?" He hoped it wasn't far, he wanted to get there as soon as possible and try to get some real sleep. If he was lucky he wouldn't have any nightmares, but that was highly unlikely. Mary's face brightened up a bit. "Hey what a coincident, that's only a few blocks from my place." She said. "Since it's so close I could give you a lift." She suggested. "That's alright, you don't have to do that." He said. "Nonsense, I insist. It would save you the trouble of paying for a cab, and cab drivers are never any good company." She said cheerfully. Max would have argued more but he knew she would probably be persistent so he didn't see the point. "Fine." He said gruffly.

Mary seemed satisfied that she had persuaded him. "Great, My friends are probably almost here so we shouldn't have to wait for too long." Max looked at her with a questioning look. "Friends?" Mary turned to face him. "Yeah my car isn't here so I'm having a couple of my friends pick me up, don't worry I'm sure there will be enough room for you." Max grunted as a reply. 'Wonderful' He sarcastically thought. As if on cue he heard the distant sound of music. He gazed around trying to find the source of the sound.

Then he spotted it. A bright, neon pink, 4 door Sedan. As it got closer the music got considerably loud. "Oh God." He murmured. 'Please tell me that's not them' He thought hopefully. "Hey there they are!" Said Mary from beside him. She started waving arm back and forth in the air to signal them over to her. Max groaned at his misfortune.

When the car pulled in front of them Mary headed over and gave a big hug to a woman that was practically hanging out the window. "Hey girl it's been a while since we've seen you!" Exclaimed the passenger. Although neither Max nor Mary could hear what she had said. "What!" Yelled Mary. The driver turned a knob on the dashboard and the volume of the music went down tremendously. "I said it's been a while." Restated the passenger. "Same here, It's good to see you all of you again" As Max approached the vehicle he noticed that there were 3 people in the car. All female.

The passenger saw him coming and whispered to Mary. "Lookout, creeper at 6 O'clock." Max guessed it was supposed to be a whisper but he heard it anyway. He got an annoyed look on his face. Mary glanced behind her, then turned back to her friend and said in a semi scolding voice. "Oh be nice he's not a creeper, this is Max. I met him on the plane, apparently the place he's staying at isn't far from my place so I offered to give him a lift. You guys don't mind right?" Everyone shook their heads but they did so hesitantly. "Alright then." Said Mary. "Let's get going."

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Max was very unhappy at the moment. He sat in the backseat between Mary and one of her friends. She had held the car door open for him to get in first and now he was stuck right in the middle of all the chatter. 'And I thought Vinnie was annoying.' He thought. Suddenly the one in the front passenger seat turned towards him. She had dark brunette hair with a thin red highlight going down the front.

"I hope you don't mind me asking but how old are you?" She asked. "Trisha. It's rude to ask someone their age." Mary said a bit loudly. "I know but I was just wondering." Said Trisha. "I have an idea." She continued excitedly. "I'm great at guessing games, I'll just guess your age and you can tell me if I'm right." "Trisha!" Mary said angrily. "Hold on I'm trying to think, hmmm… I know! 52." Said Trisha proudly. Max starred at her emotionlessly. She looked at him expectantly. He sighed deeply. "No." He said monotonously. "Oh, well how old are you?" she asked.

He sighed again. It was becoming a bad habit lately. "37." He said with a bit of aggravation in his voice. Everyone got a surprised look on their face, even Mary seemed a bit shocked. "No way." Said Trisha. "You seem a lot older." "You must have had a tough life." Said the driver, speaking to him for the first time. "Yeah, what do you do for a living?" asked Trisha. He breathed in and out, trying not to think too hard about his past. "I'm a detective." He stated.

Trisha looked excited about this new information. "You're a cop? That's so cool, how many people have you shot?" Before Mary could scold her friend Max spoke up in a serious voice. "Too many to count. I'd prefer not to talk about it." Trisha frowned a bit, even she realized she had brought up something he didn't want to discuss. "Oh, sorry if I made you uncomfortable or something." He remained silent so she turned around and stared quietly at the setting sun in the distance.

After a while everyone started up their conversations again. Mary however was just looking at Max sympathetically as he stared into space as if in a trance or deep in thought. 'Something terrible must of happened to you, I wonder what it was." She thought to herself.

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Mary exited the car to let Max out. She popped the trunk open and handed him his duffle bag. "I'm sorry for what happened back there, my friends can be a little immature or eccentric at times." She said apologetically. "Don't worry about it." Max said emotionlessly. She still felt bad for what her friends did. "Look if you ever need a ride or need help finding a place just ask me, I know this citylike the back of my hand. Here's my number, give me a call if you need anything." Mary said as she scribbled her number on a piece of paper with a pen she had with her. He looked at it, then he placed it in his pocket. "See you around Max." She said before she climbed into the back of the car.

He watched the car drive off until it turned a corner and disappeared. He walked down the street reading the numbers on the houses. After 3 or 4 houses he stopped in front of a medium sized, 2 story, white house. '6868, this is the place.' He thought. There was no vehicle in the driveway so it was obvious no one was home. He walked up the side walk towards the house with only the thought of getting some sleep on his mind. He stopped in front of the door and tried the handle. Locked, figures.

He looked down. No welcome mat. 'Then where would he keep the- ah, right there.' On the window sill sat a lone potted plant. He reached over and lifted the small object. Underneath sat a little silver key. He smiled to himself 'Too easy.'

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**Theres chapter 3**

**I know the story might be dragging a bit, but next chapter I'll try to put some action into it to make it more exciting.**

**REVIEW PLEASE! Feedback would be appreciated. **

**Thanks for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4: New faces, ally and enemy

**Authors Notes**

**I promised some action and I'm sticking by my word. Although it's not an all-out fire fight like I want to write. It's too early for that. So for now, enjoy this appetizer.**

**Also I'm introducing some important characters, so PAY ATTENTION! Thanks, now enjoy!**

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Max Payne: Miami

Chapter 4: New faces, ally and enemy

From the top of a 7 story hotel a man looked down upon the busy streets of Miami. He stood at about 5'8 in height. Short dark red hair. Light brown eyes that seemingly glowed in the night. His facial bone structure was sharp. He looked to be in his early 20's and was in great shape. His attire at the moment was a simple dark brown dress shirt, dark blue pants, and grey sneakers. A casual outfit, which was fine for him since he didn't have anything big planned for tonight.

Next to him sat a rather grouchy looking man in his early 40's. He was garbed in all black with gloves and a cap. At the moment he was peering through the scope of a rather large sniper rifle. A custom made Dragunov. He had his crosshairs fixated on the car door of an expensive looking Mercedes that was parked in front of a 5 star restaurant. His assignment was simple: Clean shot to the head, then get out of there.

"Hey Mich." Came a smooth voice from beside him. "Not now." He said in an irritated tone. "But Mitch I need to tell you something." The voice persisted. "Not now!" Mitch growled. "If I miss this shot it'll be my ass." He continued in a lower tone. Obviously trying to calm himself for the shot. "I know but there's something I forgot to tell you about this job." Said the voice. Mitch furrowed his brow and turned his head to the side in an angry fashion. "What!" He said. Then he saw a quick movement as the figure next to him shifted his position at an almost untraceable speed. Then the figure flicked his hand and a metal click sound was heard.

Mitch felt a weird sensation in his neck. Something warm and thick was coursing down his chest. He reached up and felt the area below his chin. His eyes widened as he felt a long gash a crossed his neck. Then the pain finally registered. Mitch opened his mouth to yell, but all that came out was a suffocated gurgle. He collapsed on the floor and looked up at the man standing over him with fear and confusion in his eyes.

"Sorry Mitch, but the boss says that you haven't been as loyal as you let on." He said with a regretful grimace on his face. "I'll be taking over this assignment for you alright, it's in good hands I assure you." He said as the dying man's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his arms fell limply at his side. The only person alive on the roof walked calmly over to the rifle laying on the floor. He hefted it onto the ledge to better steady his aim.

The sights on the scope were excellent, he could clearly see the target exiting his vehicle. The man down on the street had his head and arm in the car, as if reaching for something. 'Damn, I don't have a clear shot.' The man with the gun thought. Then suddenly the man below jerked his heard out of the car and looked around as if someone had called his name. 'Perfect.' The gunman thought with a smirk as he slowly began squeezing the trigger.

What he saw next froze him right up and made his blood run cold. The target turned around and knelt down as a young boy of about 8 years in age came running into his arms. The apparent father below had a huge, joy filled grin on his face as the boy in his arms giggled and laughed. Then the supposed mother came next with a content smile a cross her lips as she watched the heartwarming Father-Son moment before her.

The figure on the rooftop lifted head from the scope and hastily removed his finger from the trigger. "No." He said. "NO!" He said again, but in a much louder voice. 'I won't do it. I won't to that kid what was done to me.' He thought angrily. He stepped back and took a couple of deep breaths. Then he sighed. "Sorry Mich. Looks like I was wrong about it being in good hands." He said in a quiet voice. A small smile crossed his lips as he opened a case that lay on the ground, and proceeded to disassemble the rifle in his hands.

As he placed the pieces in the case he said in a cheerful voice. "I have to thank you for the gun Mitch, she is quite a beauty." After everything was packed up, the lone man pulled out a cell phone (One of the newest and most expensive models). Once he found the number he was looking for in his contacts he hit send. With the device pressed against his ear, he waited patiently as it rang.

A voice answered on the other side. "Who's this?" The voice asked suspiciously. "It's Carver." The voice replied simply. "Tell Sergio that Mitch has been dealt with, and that I'll be by later to give him the full details." The voice on the other end lost its suspicious edge and became more casual. "Oh ok, no problem. Good job by the way, you really do know how to get the job done." At this Carver looked down a bit. "Right, well I'll see you later Joe." He shut the phone with a sigh. 'Well at least I know how to get the job halfway done.' He thought as he descended the stairs of the building.

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On the edge of one of the many beaches in Miami, there was a large compound. There was also an impressive number of guards patrolled the surrounding area, as well as the interior. Deep inside this structure, in one of the many rooms. There was a man. A tall and bulky man of Cuban descent. He stood at about 6 ft, with rather large muscles. His attire consisted of an expensive white suit made from the finest of cotton, and black loafers made from the finest of leathers. He appeared to be in his mid 50's(Although he is as healthy as can be). Piercing dark brown eyes, black hair that was slicked down and curved slightly up at the back of his neck.

At that moment, another man walked behind him as he stared out a window at the ocean. "Mr. Rodriguez, I got a call from Carver." A smile decorated Sergio's face as he turned around. "Ah and how did our best man fare Joseph?" Joseph smiled as well. "He said he took care of Mitch, he also said that he would come by later to give you the full report." Sergio Smiled even wider. "Excellent, if that's all I think I'll retire to my studies for now. When Carver returns, inform him that I would like to meet with him as soon as possible." Joe nodded, he then turned around and exited the room to continue his duties. 'I really do know how to pick them.' Sergio thought happily to himself while grinning sinisterly.

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Max Sat up in the soft bed groggily. He rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them. A clock on the nightstand read 2;47 am. 'No less sleep than I usually get.' He thought bitterly to himself. His throat felt dry. 'This guy better have something to drink.' He as he got up. When he got here yesterday he went straight up stairs and through the first door to his right. Fortunately it was the bedroom with a decent sized bed. He had crossed the room and crashed on it. He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Now that he was rested with a night that contained a surprisingly low amount of nightmares. It was time to wake up. He had slept with all his clothes on, so as soon as he was up he headed straight for the door. As he opened the door and was stepping through, a motion out the corner of his right eye caught his attention. His hand flew up and grasped the wrist of his "assailant". The sight of a gun in the attackers hand made his "Sixth sense" as he called it kick in.

Time seemed to slow down, he slammed the gunman's hand into the frame of the door on the opposite side of the hall. Max heard a loud yelp from the figure beside him as the weapon dropped to the floor. 'Even if he's dropped his gun, he's still a possible threat.' Max thought. That's when his eyes looked towards the stairs. At the moment he was in a position with assailant's wrist still in his firm grip, leaving himself the advantage.

Max spun, bringing the mysterious attacker with him. Using the momentum of the spin, he threw the man in the desired direction. "No. No. No. No. No. NO!" Came from his mouth as he fell backwards down the carpeted stairs. Grunts and yelps were heard as he continued rolling from the second floor to the first. His little trip finally came to an abrupt halt as he hit a wall at the bottom of the stairs with a loud smack sound, followed by a few groans of pains.

Max wasted no time in bending over and snatching the gun up. He checked the safety, ammo capacity, number of bullets in the magazine, and made sure there was a bullet in the chamber as he jogged down to his assaulter. All this was automatic with him now, it was like second nature when it came to guns or combat of any kind. When the man leaning on the wall looked up, he looked right into the barrel of the gun he had possessed only moments ago.

Now that Max could get a good look at the man before him. He seemed to be in his mid-30's, short brown shaggy hair, green eyes. From Max's guess he was about 5'9 in height and had an average build. "Why did you attack me." Max said in a harsh tone. The man in front of him got a bewildered look on his face. "What do you mean attack you? You're the one who broke into my house, it was self-defense. For all I know you could've had a gun yourself, Miami's a rough place." He said, a bit offended.

Max lowered the gun a little. "So you're Bravura's friend." He said flatly. The man's eyes widened a bit more. "Who Jim? Yeah I know him but how do you- Wait you must be Max Payne." He looked Max up and down, then nodded his head. "Yep, you must be. Jim told me that you would be the guy dressed like an early 90's detective. He also mentioned that you'd probably have a bit of an attitude." Now Max lowered the gun down by his side. The man on the ground got up and dusted himself off, then he straightened up with a loud pop from his spine. He groaned in relief. "That's better." Then he extended his hand.

"Roger Heck's the name, I would say it's nice to meet you but I don't quite think I enjoyed that little tumble." Max didn't budge. Roger withdrew his hand. "Guess you not much of one for handshakes huh?" Roger walked in the direction of the kitchen and sat down in a chair. "Well I hope you warm up to me soon because it will be a rather awkward and uncomfortable 2 weeks if we remain on bad terms."

Max walked into the room and placed an unloaded pistol on the table. Along with its magazine and the bullet he'd ejected from the chamber. Roger chuckled a bit. "You sure are thorough when it comes to fighting and not trusting people." Max looked at him blankly. If he was feeling any emotions at, Roger sure couldn't tell. "Is there anything to drink?" Max asked, remembering the whole reason he left the bedroom. Roger pointed at the fridge. "Yeah but all I have right now is beer."

Max crossed the room to the fridge and opened the door. "That's fine." He said. "By the way, just how did you get in?" Asked Roger curiously. "If you want to hide your spare key, do it somewhere else other than under the only potted plant on your property. Roger laughed a little with an embarrassed look on his face. "I guess you're right." He said as Max grabbed a bottle opener that was hanging on the wall. Roger leaned back in his chair and sighed. 'Well this should be interesting.' He thought as he watched Max pop the lid off his beer and drink it. 'Very interesting.'

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**Author Notes**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There is more to come. The next chapter I do will focus more on developing the characters and getting to know them.**

**Until next time. Goodbye. PLEASE REVIEW!**


	5. Chapter 5: Unfortunate memories

**Authors Notes**

**Hello again everyone. I'm sorry that this took so long but I've had some complications, *cough* laziness *cough*.**

**Heh, well I'm back now and hopefully will get to work on this and my other story which you can check out if you want to. If you're a Fallout fan you might like it. Anyway Here is the 5th chapter of Max Payne: Miami.**

**Please enjoy and if you really like it, then leave a comment telling me what you think or give some suggestions. I'm always looking for great new ideas.**

**Here. We. Go.**

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Max Payne: Miami

Chapter 5: Unfortunate Memories

Max was leaning against Rogers's kitchen counter just staring at the wall while deep in thought. Roger was getting a little uncomfortable with all the silence. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off as Max began talking. "If this is where you live then why were you out so late?" He asked. Roger smirked and answered proudly. "I just so happen to be a man that likes to party." Max just grunted and continued staring at the wall.

Rogers smirk turned into a frown. 'Man this is gonna suck if he's like this all the time' He thought. "Alright well listen." He said getting Max's attention. "If you're going to be in Miami then you need to get some new threads." Max looked down at his attire, then glared slightly at Roger. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" He asked. Roger leaned forward in his chair and said. "Well if you didn't already know, Miami is filled with criminals. And criminals don't really like police too much. Your outfit practically screams cop." Max seemed indifferent. Roger pressed on. "Look, even if you don't care about that you still don't want to walk around Miami in a black leather jacket during this time of year. You'll sweat to death."

Max sighed but saw the logic in what he was saying. "Fine." He said. Roger smiled a bit. "Good, now at least I have an excuse to leave the house today." Then his smile faded into a grimace and he continued. "Although I'm not really sure you'll like the clothes from the place I shop at." Max took a closer look at the other mans outfit. His face twisted into an expression of minor disgust.

Roger sat in his chair wearing a tight fitting green shirt that said Aero-something on it, tan shorts, and flip-flops. Roger saw his look and said. "Well unfortunately this is pretty much all that they sell, I don't know of anywhere that might have something for your tastes." He spoke again before Max got a chance to reply. "Although I would suggest something in a lighter color, and a little less leather."

Max sighed and was going to tell him to forget about it, but then remembered something. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. Roger gave him an inquisitive look. "What's that?" Max took his eyes of the paper and looked up. "It's the number of the person who gave me a ride here; she mentioned that she knew this place pretty well. I could give her a call later and see if she knows of a good clothing store near here."

Roger lifted his eyebrows, but then they lowered and he smirked at Max. "Well, not even here for a full day and you're already getting chicks numbers. I'm impressed." He said with a chuckled. Max rolled his eyes in annoyance. "It's nothing like that." He said calmly. Roger just smiled. "Sure, sure." He said teasingly. "Well we can deal with that later, I'm gonna catch up on some much needed sleep."

He stood and gave a big stretch while yawning. He looked at Max and motioned towards the couch with his hand. "I only have one bed so you'll have to sleep there; I hope that's not a problem." Max just shook his head. 'I probably won't get much sleep anyway.' He thought. Roger just nodded and headed up the stairs, taking his gun with him.

Max removed his coat and tossed it on the back of a chair. Then he walked over to the soft looking couch and laid down on it. Sighing he shut his eyes and tried to get comfortable. 'Might as well try to get some rest.' He thought to himself as he drifted off.

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Carver covered his mouth while yawning as he walked through the extensive halls of Sergio's compound. After he had finished his assignment, he went to a nice club and flirted with some pretty girls. It wasn't like he was actually trying to get a date or something, he was just doing it to distract himself from his earlier activities. It was strange. He was one of the deadliest men in all of Miami, yet he didn't like to kill. He didn't really mind too much if they were some kind of scum or douche bag. However he hated the thought of killing someone innocent.

He could tell that Sergio wasn't exactly thrilled about that. It's easy to imagine why a crime lord wouldn't be happy if his best man had a problem with murder. Speaking of Sergio, he needed to go see him before he turned in for the night.

Carver turned down a long hallway and stopped when he came to a large door with a snoring man sitting in a chair to the side of it. He smirked as he picked up a shotgun that was leaning on the wall next to the sleeping fellow. Carver held it facing the ceiling; he got it as close as he could to the man without touching him. Then he pumped the 12 gauge Spas, causing a loud sound as the weapon ejected a shell. It bounced off the previously slumbering man as he yelped loudly and fell out off his chair, hitting the ground in an attempt to avoid an expected blast from a shotgun. Instead he heard loud laughter from above him.

He turned his head to see Carver leaning against the wall to support himself. He held the shotgun by the pump in his left hand while slapping his knee with his right, his face red from laughing so hard. The man on the ground jumped up, his face red with anger. "Damn it Carver! That's not funny!" He yelled. Carver replied while still catching his breath. "I-I'm sorry Joe- hahahaha it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up-hahahahaha!"

Joseph snatched the gun from Carvers hand. "I nearly had a heart attack!" He proclaimed. Carver was now only chuckling. "I'm just keeping you on your toes, besides its not good to sleep on the job now is it?" He asked, not really needing an answer. Joseph just sat back down in his chair with the shotgun in his lap and growled.

"Is Sergio in?" Carver asked motioning to the door. "Yeah." Joseph answered angrily, and then he proceeded to grumble to himself while glaring at the wall. Carver entered the door smiling to himself and closed it behind him.

As he walked in Sergio transferred his attention from the book he was reading to Carver. His concentrated look disappeared and was replaced by a satisfied smile. "Ah Carver, It's good to see that you have returned. Albeit a little later than I had expected." He said. Carver's smiled became sheepish as he began to explain his self. "Yeah well I decided to have a drink or two and sort of lost track of time."

Sergio merely dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "No matter, I heard that you dealt with Mitch. Good job and I trust that the rest of the assignment went well." He said expectantly. Carver's eyes looked elsewhere in the room. "About that." Sergio raised an eyebrow.

Carver continued. "I had a clear shot at my target but…" his voice faded. Sergio didn't like the sound of this. "Go on." He said. Carver sighed. "His son was with him." He said as he cast his eyes downward. Sergio frowned deeply and his face wrinkled in anger. However he quickly regained his composure and replaced his expression with a convincing look of sympathy. Carver was none the wiser as he was still staring at the floor. He looked up as the other man began to speak in a soothing voice. "I see, do not worry about it I can always have someone else take care of it."

Carver looked up and into the eyes of the man before him. There was sincerity as well as something else, but he couldn't tell what. Sergio put his hand on Carvers shoulder. "I understand your choice of actions." Carver nodded his head as he ponded upon some not so fond memories.

He always hated his little trips down memory lane. Every time his thoughts were filled with his short lived happy childhood….It was too painful. Remembering his parents during good times was nice. However when their deaths were brought to mind, it wasn't exactly pleasant.

Even with all the time passed, that night was still fresh in his mind. They had just gotten home from dinner. When they entered their home, it was being robbed. His family was pretty wealthy, so it wouldn't be too much of a surprise to most.

He remembers it clearly. He was 9 years old, living a very happy childhood. At least until that night. They never suspected a thing when they walked through the front door, his parents were both chuckling cheerfully at a joke his father had just told. It went right over his head at the time, but he smiled all the same, not wanting to be left out. His mother was carrying the leftovers from dinner in some paper bags; she walked toward the kitchen to put them in the fridge. That's when it happened.

Loud gunshots rang out from the room his mother had just entered. He began to panic as she fell to the floor from the doorway, staring lifelessly at him while blood stained the front of her dress in several places. His father screamed in horror. "NO!" He yelled, racing over to her. Before he could reach her, a man wearing dark clothes and a ski mask, stepped in front of him. He raised his left hand which held a large pistol, aiming at his father's head. However he was to slow in pulling the trigger, his father swatted the assailants weapon away with a strong backhand. It bounced off a wall and slid to a halt somewhere underneath their couch.

Taking advantage of the shocked attacker, his father lashed out with a furious right hook. The other man stumbled back, crashing into a china cabinet, the glass casing shattered, causing everything inside to come tumbling out onto the floor and the masked man. His father turned and looked straight at Carver, fear and sorrow evident in his teary eyes. "Run!" He yelled frantically. "Now!" Carver obeyed and rushed to the front, grabbing the handle he flung it open as quick as he could. Chancing another look he glanced over his shoulder.

His father was advancing on the stunned man, ready to tear his head off. But he never got the opportunity. Another mask wearing robber descended their staircase hurriedly. In his hands was a sawn off pump shotgun. Raising it as his father whirled around to face him. Then he fired the mighty weapon with less than two meters between them. The blast lifted his father clean off his feet, blood splattering on the wall behind him. He landed right on top of a small coffee table, it shattered beneath his weight. Coughing up blood he jerked a few seconds before letting out a gurgled sound, his body went limp as the cruel claws of death finally claimed him.

Carver ran from the house as fast as he possibly could, tears streaming freely down his face as he cried loudly. He sprinted across the stretch of his neighbor's lawn, then slamming into their front door he began banging loudly. After a few seconds someone peeked out from the curtains next to the door. Almost immediately after the large door swung open, standing there was Mrs. Parker, a fairly good friend of his parents. She hurried him in and gathered the sobbing child in her arms. "Oh my, dear what happened, were those gunshots?"

He sobbed and sputtered out incoherent noises. Mrs. Parker tried her best to sooth the poor child, but he continued on in his frantic panicking. She turned to her husband, who had just rushed into the room with a small pistol in his hand. "Call the police!" He stared at the scene before him in confusion for a second or two before setting the gun on the table next to their house phone. He picked it up and hurriedly dialed 911. Everything went dark and blurry after that.

He woke up later, in a police station with the Parkers watching over him. He didn't speak a word for three days straight. Their funeral was held not long after. Many people came up to him and gave their condolences. That's when Sergio approached him. He introduced himself, saying how horrible of a loss it was that his parents were gone. He said he was a close friend of his father, and that he would like to help in any way. Carver vaguely remembered seeing him with his parents a few times.

After the funeral Sergio took him aside and told him that he meant what he'd said. With a comforting smile he promised that he would have a good home to live in. Carver was offered the choice of being Sergio's adopted son. The kind looking man said it would be much more pleasant than staying at an orphanage, waiting for some random couple to take him or being sent to live with relatives that he had never even met.

Going with Sergio seemed like the better option when he thought of the alternatives. Once all the technical details had been worked out, he was brought to the giant complex that Sergio called a home. The people there seemed scary at first, but soon after he got used to them. Once he was a bit older they taught him how to use a gun and let him practice at the shooting range. After that he realized that living there would actually be kind of cool. Even if Sergio did make him study hard weekly. It was tough, but he was always rewarded.

At age 13 they started teaching him how to fight and defend himself. He learned quickly and exceled at it. They also started educating him in the way of fire arms. Despite the bad memories he still picked them up and learned how to operate then with expert precision. By the time he had turned 16, he was a forced to be reckoned with in almost every way. The whole time Sergio had been teaching him more and more about the "Business" he ran. His silver tongue had craftily twisted his mind to his will. He taught him the importance of being ruthless. At first Carver was resilient to the idea of killing, but once again Sergio had convinced him otherwise.

His first kill was a low-life drug dealer in the back ally of a run-down slum who had tried to rip them off. He was 17 years old at the time. Sergio was going to do it personally, but decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce Carver to killing. He handed him the gun and told him to "Finish it." Of course he refused, but Sergio made a little speech about how it was because of horrible criminals like him that good people like his parents died every day.

He had stood there looking at the floor for a few seconds, the 44. Magnum in his hand shook slightly. Then he became completely still, slowly raising his head he made eye contact with the dealer. The nameless thug had raised his hands and was about to make a plea for his life, but before he could utter a word, a 44. Caliber bullet tore through his forehead and splattered his brains on the wall behind him. His body knelt there completely still for a moment, his head hung backwards, blood trickling out from the hole. Then he fell back and lay motionless on the ground.

And here he was, almost loathing his life style. Back then he was young and stupid, he completely understands what Sergio had done to him. However, he still owes him in a way, not like he could just walk out anyway. Sergio had walked over to his desk and sat down, his attention turning to the screen of his computer. "Why don't you go and try to catch some sleep, tomorrow we're meeting some business partners. There's an important shipment of a rare drug that we need to have delivered to them, and you're in charge of making sure everything goes as planned." Carver nodded as he left the room, turning down the hallway that led to his room. After he was gone Sergio slammed his fist on the desk angrily. "Damn it!"

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Miami Police Department, 8:12 am

A rather portly man sat at the welcoming desk in the entrance of the M.P.D. His nametag said "J. Worrall" but everyone called him Jorge. He leaned back and yawned loudly, his shift would be over in an hour and he was tired. He picked up a fishing magazine that was laying on his desk and flipped through the pages, browsing the numerous fishing poles he wished he could have. The sound of a door opening drew his attention to the front of the building.

In stepped a man with dark brown hair, about 5'10 in height, brown eyes by the look of it, and dressed in a black suit. Jorge was a little wary of him, not really sure what to think. The man approached the desk and reached into suit pocket. Jorge tensed and was about to reach for his gun, but then the man pulled out an FBI badge. "Special agent Cooper, I'm supposed to be meeting with your supervisors in about twenty minutes."

Jorge's heart rate slowed back down to its normal beat after a few second. "Of course, he's expecting you." He said. "He's in his office, third floor, it'll be the forth room on the left." Jorge typed a few things into his computer. "Room 308, I'll buzz you in." After a little more typing, he reached over and pressed a yellow button on a panel of buttons near his computer. The elevator about a dozen feet away buzzed, and then the doors opened. Cooper simply nodded his head as thanks and headed to the elevator. After stepping in he hit the button for the third floor and rubbed his temples as the metal box began its ascent. He had much to discuss with the men in charge. Some serious chaos was about to break lose if they didn't handle this situation and fast.

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**Thank you so much for reading my story and I hope you enjoyed it.**

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